When the Angels Sing
by silvershadeus
Summary: Sequel to "Do What you Have to Do", rated R for language...


This is the sequel to "Do What You Have to Do", and the second fic in that story arc. Five months have passed since the events in "Do What You Have to Do" and things have begun to settle down into a normal routine. The title and partial lyrics below are from the song "When the Angels Sing" by Social Distortion. 

~silvershadeus~

Disclaimer: I do not own _Weiß Kreuz_, I'm just borrowing characters for a little bit. I also do not own the song "When the Angels Sing" by Social Distortion. Likewise, I'm just borrowing it for a while.

feedback, onegai! ^_^

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**When the Angels Sing - Part 1**

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At last we meet again, dear God, hear the angels sing  
The funerals are nicer when we know you're there, when the angels sing   
Sometimes I try so hard to understand the things you do   
Who am I to question you when it all comes down?  
Hear the angels sing  


~_When the Angels Sing_~ Social Distortion

"And when you're finished with that, why don't you stop by the sushi place by the park and grab lunch for us?"  
  
Glaring at Yohji from behind the armload of flower arrangements he held in his arms, Saburo was seriously tempted to inflict bodily harm on the older man. Yohji reclined in his accustomed place on the windowsill, basking in the sun for all the world like a lazy tomcat. He hadn't moved from that position since he'd ambled down the stairs and into the shop that morning.  
  
"Did you ever hear the story about Cinderella?"  
  
Cracking open one cat-green eye, Yohji regarded the younger man with a sort of lazy indifference. While he was far from accepting Saburo as a member of their team, he had managed to make peace with the younger man. And while there was the occasional tension between them, it was no longer laced with the outright hostility it had once been. And Saburo was smart enough to take what he could get from Yohji on that front. He wasn't expecting a miraculous turnaround of Yohji's attitude towards him. He was still suffering, after all. Waking the others in the middle of the night with his screams when the nightmares plagued him.  
  
"The one with the rodent infestation and squash? Isn't that a children's story?"  
  
Gritting his teeth to keep his temper from getting the better of him at Yohji's' condescending tone, Saburo moved over the to the table and set his cargo down on it.  
  
"It was mice and pumpkins, but close enough."  
  
Yohji watched him, the corners of his mouth turning down as he noticed the younger man was making no move to deliver the arrangements he'd spent hours coaxing the customers to buy.   
  
"What about it? And you should get those delivered or Aya will get on our case about it. He's a stickler for things like that."  
  
Sighing, Saburo decided that explaining anything to Yohji would have been a waste of time. It was obvious that Yohji wasn't willing to listen to anything he had to say at the moment anyway.  
  
"Never mind. What did you want for lunch anyway?"  
  
Green eyes narrowing as Yohji sat up a little straighter to pay attention to the matter of seeing to his empty stomach, Saburo crossed his arms and waited. He'd discovered that Yohji had a strange liking for sushi, especially when he wasn't the one paying for it.  
  
"I'd like - "  
  
He was cut off by the cheery jingle of the bell as the door to the shop opened. Turning, Saburo fixed a smile to his face, freezing as he saw who stood just inside the doorway, looking impeccable as always.  
  
"Manx."  
  
Startled by the way Yohji all but hissed the woman's codename, Saburo had taken a step away from her, putting the table laden with flower arrangements between them. Which had been an odd reaction, considering the fact that he barely knew the woman. Perhaps he had picked up on the subtle hostile vibe Yohji was radiating like a star about to go nova.  
  
Her expression didn't change, but any warmth that had been in her eyes vanished, replaced by cold professionalism at its best. Without saying anything, she managed to let the two of them know just how little she cared what they thought of her, so long as they continued to follow her orders.  
  
"Five minutes, Balinese." She said, her voice glacial cold as she made her way to the back of the shop towards the briefing room.  
  
Turning to look at Yohji, Saburo was startled at the look on the older man's face, a mix between anger and something darker. Noticing Saburo watching him, Yohji managed to pull himself together with visible effort.  
  
"Go find Ken, I'll get Aya."  
  
Saburo looked like he wanted to argue the point with Yohji, but one look at Yohji's eyes was enough to shut him up. Nodding, he turned to follow Manx out of the shop, removing his apron on the way.   
  
Yohji watched him go, unable to shrug off the feeling of dread that had taken hold of him upon seeing Manx. The last time she'd come by the shop, they'd lost Omi. Who would it be this time?

*********

Yohji came down the stairs leading to the mission room ten minutes later with Aya behind him. Saburo sat on the arm of the couch, eyes going from Ken to Manx nervously as the tension in the room did nothing but increase. The older man had chosen to stand, perhaps hoping for some kind of psychological edge against Manx that way. It put him on equal footing, as the woman was not looking down at him.   
  
The moment Aya stepped into the room, all eyes went to him, as though drawn by some unknown force. Watching him as he turned to look at Manx, Saburo found himself unable to look away, as though he'd just witnessed a particularly violent car crash.  
  
"You're late."  
  
Saburo's eyes widened as he heard Yohji growl, obviously not as pleased to see Manx at the moment as he had been once.   
  
"A pleasure as always, Manx." Yohji drawled, voice devoid of anything remotely related to what his words implied.  
  
Ken looked sharply at Yohji, warning him with a look to watch it. The older man caught his eye and held it, clearly not wanting to back down because of Ken's say so.   
  
Saburo had remained silent, trying to gauge the emotional currents surging through the room. He'd been half dreading, half looking forward to this day for a while now. It was clear from the others actions that in some way they blamed both themselves and their employers for what had happened on their last mission, although they had never said as much.   
  
It was a difficult thing, placing blame when there was none to be found. And doubly so for the ones left behind who needed something, someone to blame for something that needed no blame.  
  
"Enough. You have a mission for us?"  
  
Aya's voice cleaved through the tension, drawing attention back to himself in the process. Saburo watched, impressed in spite of himself. There was no doubting that the redhead had a certain _presence_ abut himself that made it hard to take him lightly. It was no wonder the others had taken to seeing him as tier leader. Saburo was beginning to see exactly why himself.  
  
Manx regarded Aya thoughtfully, head tipped to the side, eyes narrowed. Out of the corner of his eye, Saburo noted that Yohji and Ken had moved to flank Aya, providing them with a united front against Manx and all that she represented.   
  
One corner of her mouth quirked in a sad smile, as though regretting that things had come to such a point between them. Watching them, Saburo couldn't help but feel the same. There was something in the way they faced each other that told volumes of their past relationships, and what they had been through together.  
  
"If you would be so kind as to get the lights, Balinese?"  
  
It had to have been deliberate, her choosing Yohji like that. Saburo saw it in the way the older man had stiffened, green eyes narrowing. Ken looked as though he wanted to say something, but he kept his silence at the look Aya gave him.  
  
Yohji held his ground a moment longer, then made his way to the wall where the light switch was and flipped it with a bit more force than was necessary. Nodding her thanks, Manx walked over to the VCR and placed a tape in the machine. Pressing he TV's power button on, she stepped back and crossed her arms, waiting for the briefing to begin, watching he others closely.  
  
Turning his attention away from the others, Saburo watched as the silhouette of a man appeared on the screen.  
  
"White hunters..."

*********

Grumbling as he stared down at the pile of what could only loosely be described as clothing, Saburo held up what looked like... No. There was no way Yohji was getting him to wear that, mission be damned. He'd rather -   
  
Saburo's train of thought was neatly derailed when a knock sounded on the bathroom door.  
  
"Are you dressed yet? I still need to do something to your hair and then - "  
  
"Stay away from me, Yohji, I mean it!"  
  
Chuckling in a rather disturbing manner, Yohji leaned against the closed door, lips curved in a wicked smile. It was probably bad, that he delighted in teasing people the way he did, but it was just so _fun_. And he'd had little reason to laugh or even smile lately, and mean it.  
  
"Come on, Matsumoto. It's not going to hurt, and besides, you want to get this bastard too, don't you?"  
  
Ice-green eyes narrowing at the coaxing tone in Yohji's voice, Saburo placed his hand on the doorknob and jerked the door open. Grinning in amusement as Yohji stumbled to regain his balance, Saburo toed the pile of...garments...at his feet.  
  
"That doesn't give you the right to dress me up like a prostitute, Yohji!"  
  
Having regained his balance, Yohji crossed his arms, smiling in a way that warned Saburo that he should have run while he'd had the chance.   
  
"You won't look like a prostitute, Saburo. You're just going to be wearing something...a little revealing."  
  
Lifting an eyebrow at Yohji's words, Saburo held up a piece of clothing that was barely larger than his hand.  
  
"And this? This is more than 'a little revealing' Yohji! It's obscene! I'm not wearing that."  
  
Sighing, Yohji conceded defeat, at least in that matter.  
  
"Fine. I'll find you something else to wear. Just remember you're supposed to look - "  
  
"Yes, yes. I know what I'm supposed to look like, Yohji. I read the guy's profile too, you know. I'm just surprised that he's managed to stay under Kritiker's radar for so long."   
  
Sighing, Yohji rubbed his face wearily, avoiding looking at Saburo.   
  
"Yeah, well...Kritiker's been busy lately. Small fry like this Kanamaru guy have been slipping through the cracks."  
  
"And it's our job to make sure he doesn't get away with it anymore, right?" Saburo added, feeling a weight settle on his shoulders that he couldn't remember having been there before. "As Weiß, it's what we're paid to do? What we're supposed to do?"  
  
Yohji turned to look at him, all signs of levity gone from his face. Saburo might have found it strange, had he not seen that look on the older man's face so many times before.   
  
"Yeah. Welcome to the club, Saburo. It's nothing but hell from here on out."  
  
With that, Yohji walked away, leaving Saburo alone with his words hanging in the air and a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach. 

*********

"This is fucking ridiculous."  
  
Biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling at Yohji's irritated complaint, Saburo concentrated instead on keeping an eye out for the target. It was hard to even think with the music blaring from speakers and rattling the glass in the windows, let alone spot a specific person in the mob of gyrating bodies on the dance floor. Colored lights swept over the clubbers in slow arcs, adding to the disorienting effect the mirrored walls and floors created.  
  
"Are you sure he's going to show tonight?"  
  
Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Saburo stirred his drink, counting silently in his head, waiting for -   
  
"Cut the chatter, Balinese. Keep the line clear."  
  
This time he did smile. It had taken some time, but he was beginning to get the little mannerisms and quirks of his teammates down. He could read Aya a little now, and he knew more about the way the redhead worked. He'd never really gotten the chance during those first few weeks of his arrival at the flower shop since Aya had always found a reason not to be in the same room with him, but things had changed considerably since then.  
  
The three of them had begun to move on past the death of their teammate, slowly learning how to live again after the loss of their friend. There were still moments when Yohji or Ken would get a wistful look o their face when something reminded them of Omi. Or they would find something of his that had been placed in odd places around the flower shop that had long been forgotten. Just a week ago while they had been doing the inventory Aya had found one of Omi's winter gloves buried beneath a stack of potting soil in the back room.  
  
Running a hand through his hair, Saburo discreetly adjusted his earpiece, only slightly surprised that Yohji hadn't continued whining. The mission they were on at the moment hardly required all four of them to complete, but Manx had been adamant that all of them be in on it. Since it was to be Weiß's first mission since the last one had ended in disaster for all involved, the others had quietly agreed. Save for Yohji, who had been quite vocal in wanting to refuse taking any pat of the mission.  
  
He'd claimed that he was uninterested in it for the sole fact that there were no women over eighteen involved, but with the combined glares of Aya and Manx, he had grudgingly admitted defeat. He was currently somewhere in the building, more than likely surveying the dance floor from one of the second level balconies where he would have a good view of things without actually having to set foot near the writhing mass of bodies.  
  
Aya was outside the club, lying in wait with Ken in case their target somehow managed to get past him or Yohji. It was unlikely, given the fact that the man they were after hardly seemed to be worth the effort they had put into preparing for the mission, but Manx had warned them to be especially vigilant on this mission. There had been something in her voice that the four of them had taken to heart.   
  
Wrinkling his nose as he caught sight of himself in the mirror behind the bar, Saburo hid his grimace behind the rim of his glass as he took a drink. More melted ice than anything; it left a bad taste in his mouth.   
  
Almost of their own accord, his eyes wandered back to the mirror, as though horrified at what was reflected there. Yohji had coordinated his wardrobe for the mission, as he had a low opinion of just what Saburo considered fashionable. He supposed it had something to do with the fact that he happened to like plaids while Yohji most definitely did not. Something to investigate later on, when he the time and inclination.  
  
The shirt he was wearing glittered gold beneath the strobe lighting, accentuating his complexions and toned muscles. Cut off just above his stomach, it fit like a second skin, although it was a great deal more translucent. He wore a pair of skin-tight leather pants and black boots that pinched his feet in all the wrong places. Yohji had done something to his hair, giving him a sleepy, 'well tumbled' look that had earned his a few sultry looks from the clubbers around him. His eyes, Yohji had left well enough alone, muttering something about genetics and not messing with what God had given him any more than what was strictly necessary.  
  
Saburo wished wholeheartedly for his plaid shirts, faded jeans and sneakers that didn't make him wish heartily for death with each step he took.   
  
Sighing, he tore his eyes away from his reflection, the earring dangling from his left ear tinkling merrily, although he barely heard it above the noise in the club. It was turning out to look like another unsuccessful night of club-trawling looking for their guy, someone that they all wanted dead very, very much for what he did to people like Saburo. Or people who looked like Saburo at any rate.  
  
Shaking his head, Saburo took a sip of his drink, eyes narrowing slightly when he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Setting his glass down on the counter, he shifted to get a better look without actually turning his head to see. The target's description from his profile folder flitted through his mind: blonde haired with either blue or purple streaks in his hair, a slight limp, and an elaborate silver choker...  
  
"Balinese, my three o'clock, with the silver crop top. See him?"  
  
Waiting for Yohji's reply, Saburo turned around, letting his eyes rove over the crowd as though trying to debate the merits of joining the mass of people on the dance floor or not. Mentally adjusting his expression so that he exuded just enough vulnerability to be appealing to the kind of gutter-trash bastard that they were after, Saburo played with the collar of his shirt.  
  
"Roger that, Sphynx. Looks like our guy. Keep an eye on him, I'm coming down."  
  
"No. I've got him. You'd scare him off if he saw you with me, Balinese." Saburo murmured, sliding off the barstool with his usual boneless grace. "Just keep an eye out for any goons he might have with him."  
  
There was another pause, longer this time. Saburo was about to repeat his words, when Yohji's voice reached him, sounding unhappy about the whole situation.  
  
"All right. Watch your back."  
  
Smiling to himself, Saburo made his way through the crowd, trying to appear as meek and submissive as he could while pushing through the bodies separating him from the target. It wouldn't have done for him to break character now, when they were so close to finishing the mission.   
  
Crying out as he was shoved roughly from behind, Saburo lost his footing, stumbling forwards throwing his arms out to break his fall. Instead of helping him, the crowd around him reached out and took advantage of the fact that he was unable to support himself by petting him and touching his butt and other body parts. Green eyes narrowing in irritation he tried to break free of their grasping hands, Saburo gritted his teeth as someone stepped on his already abused feet. Twisting around to glare at the offending person, he found himself staring into a pair of chilling blue eyes set in an angel's face.  
  
There was too much noise for Saburo to hear what he'd said, but he was skilled enough at reading lips to know what the words had been:   
  
"My, my...aren't _you_ the pretty one."   
  
He tried to jerk away when he felt a pinprick of pain his neck, and then he was falling, his vision blurred at the edges, fading in and out. He thought he heard Yohji screaming in his ear -   
  
And then everything went black.

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**TBC...**

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A/N: Saburo's obviously going to have a bigger part to play in this fic and later ones in this arc. Be sure to let me know what you think of him...I'd hate for him to be just another typical OC.

A Sphynx is a hairless cat breed as well as being Saburo's code name. ^_^ If you're interested in seeing what one looks like, the following link will take you to a page all about them.   
  
(http://www.cfainc.org/breeds/profiles/sphynx.html)


End file.
